Murmurs
by litmajoronleave
Summary: One-shot prequels to the fanfic Edward's Bella. These are all in Bella's POV and briefly narrates her life before she met Edward on the plane. Best if you've read the main fic first. AH-OOC
1. Angela

**Stephenie Meyer's** Twilight

**a/n:** A one-shot prequel to the fanfic **Edward's Bella**. This is in Bella's POV. This is also Chapter 42 of Edward's Bella so it's best to read the main fic first. This is about a girl, battling with a mental disorder all her life, and why she wanted to have a friend. Warning: suicide content (no one will die)

* * *

**August (the year before, in the story timeline). Bella has been staying in London with her aunt for 8 months**

"Her name is Angela."

I quickly dropped the curtains I had set aside. The rustle of fabric sounded guilty. Still, I pretended that I hadn't been spying on our neighbor. I turned from the living room window, feeling my cheeks turning pink.

My aunt gave me a knowing look, but she was smiling.

"She's a lovely girl, you know. She has been asking about you."

"She was?"

Aunt Marge nodded.

Again I pulled the curtain aside, looking at our neighbor. She was taking bags of groceries out of her car. I grinned. It was the cutest minibug I had ever seen.

I sometimes wished I could drive a car, too.

I mentioned it once to my aunt. It was the wrong topic to discuss with her. She loathed left-hand driving.

We're Americans, she said. We were a danger to English roads.

My aunt employed a driver instead, a Scots, Mr. Garret. I liked him a lot, especially his Scottish accent. He reminded me of groundskeeper Willie in Springfield Elementary School in the Simpsons.

Mr. Garret was one of the company chauffeurs in my aunt's firm but when he retired, Aunt Marge offered him a post-retirement job and he gladly accepted.

I had been suspecting that I was the reason why my aunt suddenly had a need for a car and driver. She was a happy commuter for the past 20 years or so, before I showed up.

Mr. Garret was hired a week before I arrived in London.

It wasn't really necessary since I never go out of the house. There wasn't any need or requirement, except for every two weeks.

I was privately tutored. My teacher comes 4x a week for three hours each session. My aunt also employed two house helpers and I was told to never lift a finger around the house.

I wasn't trying to anyway. I was afraid of making a mess if I tried.

But, I would sneak in the kitchen at night. I found this thick recipe book of sandwiches that I really liked.

I thought I was being canny about it, but my aunt knew of my midnight sojourn to her kitchen.

One night she left me a note, telling me to cook whatever I wanted and to leave Jane, one of the helpers, a list of ingredients that I needed.

My aunt was nice. She was my dad's only sister. She used to have a husband but then he died. I was sad about that. I could have had many cousins but my aunt had no children.

Sometimes I think my aunt was adopted. She was so … _normal_.

Not like my dad.

Not like me.

No. Not like us.

Sometimes I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She seemed stuck with me. She was a very reserved person and here I was, invading her space. I wished I wasn't such a burden. My own mother -

I sighed.

I didn't want to go there. I couldn't. Dr. Evans said I wasn't ready yet.

* * *

The only time I had to leave the house was when I had to see my doctor, every 15 days.

He was the nicest psychiatrist I ever had. And I've had many, believe me. Dozens! I couldn't recall all of their names. I remember Dr. McKinsey. He was my doctor when I was 10.

"Bella …"

I turned to my aunt. We had just finished breakfast. It was a rare time when we were eating together. My aunt was a high-ranking executive and she was very important in her office. That meant she was working all the time.

This morning I had her complete attention. She was looking at me with a thoughtful expression, as if she really wanted to understand me. Because she cared about what happened to me.

"Bella … are you happy here?"

I didn't know how to answer her.

Was I happy?

Was I supposed to be happy?

How was someone like me, ever supposed to be happy?

* * *

I was 11 when I first heard that word.

I thought it was just a word used commonly, in normal conversation, like "depressed".

I told myself it was just like being called "weird".

That was a laugh. Those words.

Then there were other words that I would rather not think about. Like that word that accused me of trying to murder myself. Or that word that kids in my school used to hurl at me behind my back and to my face. It meant nothing to them to say it, but it hurt me.

All those words I could bear. But not _The Word_.

* * *

I accidentally found my medical records the day I turned 11.

Case Record Folder of Isabella Marie Swan (born September 13, 1991)

Institution: Mercy Children's Hospital (Boston, Mass.)

Date Admitted: August 8, 2001

Diagnostic Impression at Admission:

1. Psychoneurotic Depressive

2. Bipolar 1 Disorder

3. Borderline Personality (pre-adolescence)

Established Diagnosis/Mental Disorder: Catatonic Schizophrenia (periodic)

It was _The Word_.

* * *

There were many, many words then. Scary words. Damning words. Words I didn't want to think had anything to do with me, of who I was, of who I would always be.

These words - strung impersonally as sentences, then paragraphs, then whole pages - showed that what I had was a serious mental illness.

"The patient (me) is unable to interpret reality in what is considered to be a normal way ..."

A normal way?

"The patient (me) can appear frozen, not able to speak or respond to other stimuli ..."

"The patient (me) alternate between frozen state and the excited state, referred to as catatonia. While these are the most characteristic symptoms of this disorder, there are others. These include having delusions, speaking incoherently, becoming angry for no reason, hallucinating, having no emotional reactions and social isolation."

Yes ... I was crazy.

Yes, I did attempt ... suicide.

But dear god, I didn't want to be incurable or useless.

I couldn't be a schizophrenic.

* * *

Normal people have best friends.

That was why I now find myself standing outside her door.

I had just raised my hand to lift the brass door knocker when the door flew open.

I bit off a scream. She was immediately contrite.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Bella! I didn't mean to startle you!"

I smiled weakly. I nodded "hello" to her. At least, I hoped that was what I was doing. I better say it out loud, I thought.

"H-hello?"

"Hi!"

I felt like an idiot. Worse, I felt so abnormal.

I turned to go but she stopped me by placing her hand on my arm. I froze.

"Oh, sorry," she mumbled, dropping her hand.

I stared at her. She smiled at me. I felt my lips moving, trying to imitate her smile.

* * *

It was all hers. This friendship. It happened because of her - Angela, my best friend.

I discovered that with a best friend, you only have to listen.

I didn't have to talk, or squeal for no apparent reason. She didn't force me to do anything.

I really didn't mind her chatter. When Angela was in the room, I didn't hear anything else. Just her. My best friend.

We even have identical mobile phones. Hers was orange, a bubbly color like her. Mine was blue. Blue was my favorite color. It reminded me of -

Anyway. I have always liked blue.

Angela convinced Aunt Marge to give me a daily allowance. I didn't want it. But Angela was persistent, so my aunt got me plastic money. I never used it but I liked having it. It was what every normal teenager has.

I think I was happy.

Angela was happy.

She said she has a boyfriend. His name was Ben. We haven't met.

"Do you -" I stopped, hesitating. There was something I wanted to ask her.

She smiled at me and it was in encouragement. So I took a deep breath.

"Do you like holding his hand?"

And she laughed, but she wasn't laughing at me. She was laughing because she was just really cheerful, and I was her silly best friend.

"Oh, Bella! Of course I do. I like everything about him. I like kissing him, too." She winked. I blushed. I had once kissed a boy but that was a long time ago. His name was Mike and he was also a patient at Mercy Hospital.

"But … do you like holding his hand?" I really wanted to know.

"Well, yes! Very much so. Why?"

"I … I like holding his hand, too. It calms me," I whispered.

"Isabella Swan! You've got a boy somewhere! Who? Who!"

I shook my head at her, looking away.

I didn't have a "boy". He wasn't a boy. He was more than a boy. He was … a presence. Like an angel.

"Tell me, Bella," said Angela, quiet now, not her usual squealing self. Not that I minded her little shrieks.

"One day I will tell you," I said quietly.

* * *

These were the days that I made an effort to remember.

With Aunt Marge, and now Angela, I could think of other words, like "hope" and "dreams". These were better words, words that would never hurt me, or cause my mother sadness, or make me feel sick.

I could have the life that I used to have with my Daddy and Mom when we were living in our small home on Williams Street in Boston.

Maybe there was more to me now than what it seemed.

* * *

*****a/n**

Thank you for reading.

Summary of Edward's Bella: Nothing's troubling Edward. No great tragedy in his life or skeletons in his closet. His world and his life are just fine until perfect Edward meets broken Bella. They immediately form an unusual bond. He brings her home and into his life. Edward knows he could have his love and obsession, but not after she has changed him, and not before he has saved her. (AH-OOC/Edward POV)


	2. Murmurs

**Stephenie Meyer's** Twilight.

**a/n:** A one-shot prequel to the fanfic **Edward's Bella**. This is in Bella's POV. This is also Chapter 41 of Edward's Bella so it's best to read the main fic first. Warning: suicide content (no one will die)

* * *

"Is she coming?"

"No, Bella. Your mommy's not coming."

A crowd of black in the living room, whispering.

"Come on, sweetie, do you want some chocolate chip cupcakes?"

I nodded, taking her hand. Annie was wearing black, too.

"What are they saying, Annie?" I pouted. The whisperings were bothering me.

She was in the hospital? Poor woman!

Murmurings.

_Bella!_

_Come play!_

The doctor said it was more than shock. She wouldn't stop screaming.

"Shush now sweetie, don't listen to people talking. That's not nice," said Annie.

Did she see him? Voice lowered. You know, like that? No, the little girl found him, poor child! How old was she?

Hushed questioning.

Oh!

Sniffling.

Mrs. Jenks said the little girl just turned six!

Annie dragged me to the kitchen but I clutched the back of a chair.

I want my mommy!

"Where's Mommy!"

"I'm sorry, Bella. Mommy's not here."

_Sorry._

_We're sorry, too._

Where's Daddy?

_We made you cake! With seashells!_

_

* * *

_

**Boston, four years later **

_One of the white suits is here, Bella._

What?

"Bella, Dr. McKinsey is visiting you today." Was that the nurse? I didn't turn around. Just talking, talking. Talking and talking.

I want my mom ...

"Hi, Bella," he said. "I promised you I'll be here for your birthday, don't you remember?"

You said my mom would be here today.

You said she loved me.

You said she brought me here because she cared about me.

"Still not speaking to me?" He sat down on the chair.

_We're not talking to you!_

_Me, too._

My hands clenched and unclenched. I kept looking for Daddy. No, not daddy. _Him_. I clawed at the air, searching. Don't leave me!

_We love you, Bella._

No, not you. Where was he?

I faced away, refusing to budge from the floor.

I could feel the doctor watching me. Watching me grabbed at air. He didn't understand. He didn't see. He wasn't him.

_Bella, Bella … Bella._

Oh, shut up!

Where was he?

They only come, pestering me all day and night, when he was gone! Gone!

_The carpet's as soft as grass by the lake._

_Do you miss us, Bella?_

Yes, now be quiet! I couldn't think.

_We miss you so much, Bella._

"Mrs. Jones and I have a surprise for you, Bella."

_Cake, cake, cake …._

I jumped up and slapped my hand on the cake. The nurse yelped, startled, dropping the ruined cake on the carpet.

Shut up!

_Cake with pearls!_

"Bella, that's not nice."

I glared at him.

_The strange man is right, Bella._

I cried.

_Cries._

"Shut up!"

The doctor sat down on the carpet.

I froze.

"You are 10 years old now, Bella. Do you know what that means?"

_Come, Bella. We're waiting._

I cried harder.

Shut up.

Please, shut up.

_Just close your eyes._

_We're waiting._

_Bella …_

_We're here._

_Close your eyes._

"Bella?"

And I heard splashing. Laughter. Swirling water and the wind! I liked the wind in my hair!

And I wanted to go to them, to laugh too.

Blue, blue creatures.

_Starfish!_

But I have to stop breathing again. I must stop breathing.

_Breathe water._

It was the only way, to be with them. To be happy. To be with Daddy.

I ran. And ran.

I didn't hear Mom calling my name. Was she here? But she was never here. Must be the doctors. I didn't care for doctors. They make you talk and talk. They never stop even when you were crying.

I followed the laughter.

_Hurry! _

I ran faster.

_Daddy's here!_

Daddy's waiting.

* * *

**7th grade/middle school, lunch hall (Boston)**

I didn't want to go in there. I hated the whisperings. And that word. I hated that word.

"Oh, hi crazy girl!"

"Hey, crazy girl is here."

"Did you bring your mermaid suit today, crazy girl?"

I dropped my books and I ran. I could run really fast. I was used to it by now.

I was born crazy, I would die crazy. My father was crazy therefore I should be, too. _His_ mother was crazier.

_Crazy._

_

* * *

_

**February (current year in story), seven months before boarding the plane bound for Chicago where Bella met Edward (Bella's aunt's home in London)**

"Aunt Marge? Can … can I talk to you?"

"Come in, Bella."

"I want to go home."

"You are home, Bella."

"I want to find Mom."

"You don't need to do that, Bella. I just got a call from her. She's coming over in two weeks."

"Why didn't she talk to me?"

"I don't know, Bella. I wish I could tell you why."

But she never came for me.

She never did.

* * *

**April, while in Irvine Medical (mental health hospital in London). Bella was confined for 3 months**

Because my mother hated me, I would have to die. It was her who gave birth to me, brought me unto this world. She would take me out of it, too.

"Do you think that by drowning yourself, you are doing what they are telling you?"

I never told her that. Did I?

Why were they always drawing the wrong conclusions about me? I did not drown myself! I fell on the lake!

I stared forward, just walls. There were no windows on this side.

The last time was better. The last time I wanted to say something. Did I finally say it? It didn't matter. I was _willing_ to say something. But I didn't.

"Tell me, Bella. Tell me what's on your mind? Am I wrong? Is that why you refuse to talk, because we don't understand you?"

I was starting to forget the things she once told me, about Daddy. I was forgetting him. I didn't want to forget. I had to find her, ask her to tell me again. I didn't want to ever forget my father.

She was never here. And when she was home, she hides in her room. I could hear her crying sometimes. Was it me? Was I not the daughter that she wanted?

"You are selfish!" Mom cried, tearing at her hair. "You are just like your _Dad_."

She was mad because I filled up the tub one day, and let the water flow over. I didn't tell her that it grew into a lake. I would see many, many creatures. They all wanted me to join them. They said that they would take care of me, that they know where Daddy was.

Sometimes, I would see my mother in the lake. My _real_ mother. But then she was sad, too, and she was floating above the lake. She said she was lonely. I never wanted to make my mother sad. I wanted to be with Mom forever.

Maybe that was why she was sad, she wanted her daughter to prove her love to her.

So, one day, I filled up the tub and breathed water. It was the only way.

The water overflowed and it seeped out until water slipped under the closed door. My mother, walking in the hallway, noticed the water. She opened the door and she saw me. Next thing I knew, I was in a new home where there were doctors, and nurses, and children like me.

I was here again. And there were no more children.

My doctor said something. I never really knew her name. I knew the nurse who gives me my medicines in plastic cups. I knew the name of the one who made me cry and vomit from electric shock once a week - Ms. Frankenstein. She had a scary zigzag scar on her neck.

But my doctor said a word. She wasn't supposed to say it. Not out loud, not while I was here in front of her.

I did not do that, I said.

She droned on, spouting medical terms, listing all my crimes as if I really did all that. Immobility. Bizarre. Catatonic.

I did not do those things!

_Louder._

"I did not do that!"

She stopped. I see a triumphant glint in her eye.

I cringed. Did I yell? I mustn't yell. The last thing I want was to be placed in seclusion. I could drown there. They didn't know that. If they confined me again in that closet, I would not be able to breathe. There was no air.

"Do what?"

_Don't tell her._

I opened my mouth, taking a deep breath.

_Don't, Bella._

"I'm not a suicide," I muttered.

_They'll take us away again. _

_Make you forget._

"I'm not a suicide," I repeated.

"You screamed and cried when one of the other patients called you that," Dr. Whats-Her-Face said.

Why was she bringing that up?

I _did_ not do that!

_She'll make you forget us, Bella._

"What were you trying to do then?"

I just wanted my real mother.

_We know._

To see Daddy.

_Daddy's here._

It was the only way.

* * *

**July, two months before Chicago (Bella's aunt's home)**

"I want to be normal," I mumbled.

"What did your therapist say?" My aunt was frowning. She was a good person but talks like this make her uncomfortable.

"He said I will be … normal. Eventually," I said weakly. What did eventual really mean? Eventually I do, eventually I die. Which would come first? I become normal? Or I die?

The years were a blur. My memories comprise of clinics, sometimes the big hospitals, doctors and more doctors. Sometimes, when I was quiet enough, I could still hear them.

The creatures of my past.

My friends of the lake.

But they were not real. Not now. They never were.

"Do you want me to call your mother?"

No!

"No, please don't do that."

I stood and walked over to the windows. It was getting dark.

My aunt stayed where she was. I could sense her nervousness. The last time we talked about my mother, she took me to the hospital the next day. I didn't remember what happened.

It was nighttime then, too. What I did recall was that I was only feeling restless. Thoughts of my mother always bring conflicting emotions in me.

I walked and walked and ended up by the lake. I didn't even know there was a small lake there. I rounded a corner, and there it was.

But right then, by the lake, at least for a moment, I wasn't alone. I hadn't felt him in years. Not Dad. My father was dead. It was _him_. And I felt warm and safe for the first time in a long time.

Since I was a child I had this dream that I was loved. Whenever I was sad or frightened, I would feel a strong hand gripping mine and it would calm me.

As I was growing up, I realized I didn't have to be asleep to feel the hand. To feel its reassuring hold, its firm protective grip. I could close my eyes, and then my hand was in his gentle, sometimes firm clasp, telling me he would not let me go. He kept me out of hospitals for years.

Even the lake folk agreed. He would make me feel better, they said.

I couldn't tell mom. She would give me that look again. And I knew she was seeing him, not me. Not _him_ … Daddy. And she would cry.

But he was gone, too. In an instant. And I panicked. I wasn't asking too much, was I? I knew it but I didn't care. I was just so sick of being alone.

And everything was blurry, hazy, and I couldn't hear or move. The last thing I saw was the lake and he was no more.

* * *

**4am London time, six hours before boarding the plane to Chicago (Heathrow Airport, London)**

"What's that?"

_Giggling._

The woman in front blinked sleepily at me. She was standing near a counter.

"What's what?" she mumbled, her hand covering a yawn.

"The woman speaking!"

"The public announcement?" She looked at me as if I was crazy.

I was _not_ crazy!

But she was moving away. She knew I was ...

_No_. I was not crazy!

What did I just do?

Not well. Not good. I couldn't do this.

_Giggling._

"Did you say something?" I whispered to the person next to me. No answer. I slowly swiveled my head. There was no one next to me.

"Ms. Swan?"

I jumped and whipped my head forward. There was a man behind a counter. I frowned. What was I doing here? I looked at him blankly. He was holding something in his hand. He said it was my passport and where was I going?

I followed a line and I had no idea, didn't know. It was the shortest line. The man was asking something of me. He said a name, a destination, and I nodded.

"You need a visa."

I need to be normal!

"W-what?"

"You can't enter the country without a visa."

Please, help me.

A bubble was spreading inside my head, cloaking all outside noises.

What?

What was he saying?

I couldn't hear him!

"Are you going to Spain?"

Yes.

_No._

No.

I shook my head at him.

I grabbed my passport and ran.

I stopped when I realized there were no more people. Where did everyone go?

_Giggling._

I walked slowly, more briskly, and I was running again. I ran and ran until I collided with a solid thing and I was flung on the tiled floor. A spiel of apologetic noises swirled above my head and I was hauled up. I was standing again.

"Miss, are you okay?" An American accent.

I stared at his dark blue uniform, frowning. There was another blue creature to his right, but it was fading, shimmering, teasing.

"I'm … buying a ticket," I said quickly before he too disappeared.

He smiled at me, made sure I was not wobbling by myself, retrieved my scattered belongings and handed these to me.

"Welcome to United Airlines, ma'am, please wait a moment while I complete another transaction." He returned behind his counter.

Numbly, I stood behind a tall man in a suit. I didn't know how long I stared at his brown suit.

"Thank you for ... ma'am. May I … passport … where …"

I watched his mouth. I didn't understand why he wasn't making a sound. His mouth stopped moving and he nodded at me. I nodded back. He seemed to smile, his lips turned up. He was asking me for something. I gave him something. I waited. And then I was sitting down, papers in my hand.

My mouth trembled but my entire body was detaching. I couldn't make sense of it all.

The bubble was closing in around me.

_Giggling._

I tried to breathe, exhale. I heard gasping and I couldn't feel, or hear, or see, or know pain.

_Oh, Bella._

I only wanted to be normal.

* * *

*****a/n**

Intrigued? Read Edward's Bella (profile link), it will make sense :)

Summary of Edward's Bella: Nothing's troubling Edward. No great tragedy in his life or skeletons in his closet. His world and his life are just fine until perfect Edward meets broken Bella. They immediately form an unusual bond. He brings her home and into his life. Edward knows he could have his love and obsession, but not after she has changed him, and not before he has saved her. (AH-OOC/Edward POV)


End file.
